


In the Name of Karkat Vantas, God

by thescrewtapedemos



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Karkat is God, M/M, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, yes God you heard right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-04
Updated: 2012-07-04
Packaged: 2017-11-09 04:46:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/451453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescrewtapedemos/pseuds/thescrewtapedemos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karkat comes out as God to John. Being moirails with a Judeo-Christian deity doesn't stop him from being a dick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Name of Karkat Vantas, God

**Author's Note:**

> Bible quote from the King James Bible, Cambridge edition, Exodus 20:3

“You know I'm God, right?” Karkat tells him one day. John rolls over in the pile, deftly avoiding an errant fake arm, and pats his cheek condescendingly. 

“Thou shalt have no other gods before me,” he says. 

“Don't be more of a superior douche than you can absolutely help,” Karkat scowls and climbs out of the pile and ignores John for the rest of the day. 

~O~

“Have you turned water into wine yet?” John asks a week later. Karkat scowls and pokes extra hard at the bacon frying in the pan. 

“That was Jesus, asspickle.” John just smiles in the face of his invective and takes a spin in the kitchen stools – _they_ spin _Karkat, they_ spin! – he had spent an uncomfortable amount of money on. 

“You're God, though,” he argues. “You should be able to even if Jesus did it first.” 

“Keep on blaspheming and you won't get any bacon.” Karkat carefully extracts the bacon from the pan and sets it on the plate. John ignores him with a grin and gets up to pull a water bottle from the refrigerator. 

“Go on,” he giggles. Karkat glances at it, at John's shit-eating grin, and walks out with a huff. 

“I guess you work in mysterious ways!” John shouts after him. 

When he turns his stool back around there's a water bottle of Merlot gleaming on the counter.

“Huh,” John says. 

~O~

“So why haven't you cured Terezi of her blindness yet?” he asks that evening, turning the water bottle of wine over in his hands. He hasn't tasted it yet, but he's willing to bet it's the good stuff. Karkat scowls and rolls his eyes. 

“You're still mixing me up with Jesus. And I'm not your personal fucking miracle dispenser, John.” He gets up and turns on the television. “National Treasure or 10 Things I Hate About You?” 

“Are you kidding? Nic Cage, obviously.” John finally opens the bottle and takes a sip. He has zero knowledge of wines, but it tastes nice. 

“She would hate to be able to see,” Karkat says later. Nicolas Cage is in the middle of stealing the Declaration of Independence. 

John considers and has to agree that yeah, Terezi would absolutely hate to be suddenly sighted. 

“Remember the times she gets the flu, though? The ones that stuff up her nose?” John gives him a funny look. 

“She never gets sick.” Which is good, he knows, without her nose she really would be blind. 

Karkat smiles at the screen and doesn't say a word. 

“Oh,” John says, and drains his water bottle. 

~O~

Karkat scowls at John's goofy, gap-toothed grin. 

“I'm a _troll_ you ignorant fuck, I don't _have_ a mother,” he tells him with the awful patience of someone contemplating murder. “And I'm still not Jesus!” 

Karkat turns his back and resumes eating with vehemence. 

“So were you born from a _virgin_ Mother Grub?” John asks slyly. 

“You culturally insensitive dickhole!” 

John has to leave the room at a flat sprint to avoid the plate thrown at his head. 

~O~

John gets the call at work and doesn't even bother to take off his cake-scented apron as he almost breaks the hinges of the door on the way out. He runs all the way to the hospital. 

He _knows_ he hadn't told Karkat the number to the pastry shop he works at but in the face of water bottles full of wine having knowledge he shouldn't seems small potatoes. 

When he gets there there's a lot of doctors and a lot of blood and a lot of words he doesn't really understand. The gist of it, he gathers after a protracted conversation with a sympathetic nurse, is that Karkat walked into the road like the stupid dumb idiot he was and got a significant chunk of himself smeared over the front grill of a truck. 

A big truck. A _significant_ chunk. 

At 4:29 that afternoon Karkat slips into a coma and the nurses give up on trying to get John to leave his side. 

~O~

Three days later John watches the clock tick over to 4:29 and drops his head into his hands. 

“You're supposed to resurrect on the third day, asshole,” he mutters, dry eyed. His throat aches. 

There's a groan and the sheets under his elbows yank sideways. 

“I thought I told you to stop mixing me up with Jesus, fucker.”


End file.
